(Our class is on a trip to the Peak District, a popular hiking range famed for its natural beauty. One of the more humorous exhibits is the ‘money tree,’ where there is coinage from across the world stuck into the trunk of the tree.)

Teacher: “Gather around, class. This is the ‘money tree.’ When they say money doesn’t grow on trees, they’re lying.”

(Student #1 tries to pick money off the tree.)

Student #1: “The money isn’t coming off this tree, sir. Can you help me?”

Teacher: “No… the money doesn’t really come out…”

Student #2: “But why is it the ‘money tree’ if it won’t give us money? Apple trees give us apples!”

Teacher: “I don’t get paid enough…”

(I am a sophomore in high school, and currently walking to school. I am waiting for the green to cross the street when I see a very disheveled woman storming her way towards me.)

Upset Woman: *midway through a rant* “—that’s how it was when I was beautiful!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. What? I didn’t catch that.”

Upset Woman: “Of course you didn’t! You NEVER catch how fleeting your beauty is! You think you’re just a smoking little pistol, don’t you?!”

(The green signals me to cross the street. I start walking, but the woman follows me, still in her conversation at me.)

Me: “Not really. I’m just walking—”

Upset Woman: “Well, I used to be beautiful, too! That was before THIS!”

(The woman pulls down the top of her blouse, revealing most of her cleavage. It is aged, but beyond that I’m just shocked that this woman is flashing me.)

Upset Woman: “Now no one will love me! I’m hideous! Damaged goods! If we both fell down a long flight of stairs and ended up HORRIBLY MANGLED, you know who they’d save?”

Me: *trying to avoid the conversation* “I don’t think that’s likely to happen.”

Upset Woman: “They’d save you! Because cops only rescue the pretty ones, leave the worthless garbage in the dark where it belongs!”

(She rants on like this for a few more blocks, and eventually she turns down a different street. Thankfully I never saw her again! Yikes!)

(I am walking into town with my three children and we see an elderly woman on a mobility scooter. We move out of the way politely, and smile. She just glares. About an hour later on our way back home, we see her again, and once again, I make sure we are all out of the way so she enough room to get by.)

Me: *smiling* “Good afternoon.”

Lady: *glares back* “Why don’t you just take a picture, you nosy cow!

(So much for trying to teach my kids manners, when other people treat us like rubbish!)

(My friends and I are walking around Amsterdam (we don’t live there). We stand out, as all of us are clearly metal-heads or otherwise alternatively dressed. We are quite the merry bunch, too, so we are seen skipping around the most expensive neighborhood in town.)

Friend: *spots an expensive brand store* “Hey, wouldn’t be cool if we skipped right in there and asked where the nearest punk shop is?”

Me: “Sure, go ahead!”

Friend: *suddenly backs down* “Hmm… don’t think they’ll appreciate that.”

Me: “Oh this was your idea! You wuss… Look and behold!”

(I skip to the store, which is near empty with only two store clerks busy with steam-ironing a shirt worth close to €500 on a rack.)

Me: *beaming* “Hello! Do you happen to know where we can find a punk shop around here?”

(Both the clerks look semi-shocked and disgusted, looking at me: a girl wearing muddy combat boots, a long buckled coat, and spiked bracelets.)

Clerk: *with the most painful smile I have ever seen* “Well… clearly not around here.”

Me: “That’s obvious, isn’t it? So where should we look?”

Clerk: “You should try at [Street]. There’s a shop there called [Name], and is more suited for… your kind.”

Me: “Fantastic! Thank you!”

(I skip out of there.)

Friend: *dying in laughter* “I can’t believe you just did that! So, where is that punk shop?”

(We found said street and wound up at the red-light district. The ‘punk store’ was an SM store that sold whips, leather cat-suits, and the like, along with some horror shirts and latex outfits that might appeal to some extreme goths, but certainly not to us!)

(It is late at night, and we are going back to our car after a long night. There are six of us: five have been best friends since high school and the sixth person is a new friend of ours. I’m considered a bit of an oddball and can get on people’s nerves, which the new person has made quite clear. We also happen to be walking through a very bad part of town.)

New Friend: “Ugh… you are so annoying! You should consider yourself lucky that we don’t ditch you somewhere.”

Friend #1: *to New Friend* “Dude, stop whining already. You’ve been at it all day.”

New Friend: “I’m just saying [My Name] needs to learn how to behave. I don’t know why you all keep him around.”

(At that moment a drunk stranger comes up and cops a feel of one of our female friends. The new friend, who is standing right next to her, backs away scared. I step up and grab the guy’s arm, lifting it up, with my best poker face.)

Me: “Ooh! I’ve been looking for an arm to add to my collection. Hope you don’t mind me taking yours!”

(The stranger freaks out and runs away. The new friend looks at me like I’m crazy.)

Friend #2: “And that is why we hang out with him. You can sit in the back, [New Friend]!”